by L. J. Smith
The thought filled me with hope as I took my place, crouched at the top of the stairs. Mary Jane stood on the landing below, her eyes closed. She rocked back and forth on her heels and seemed as though she were concentrating deeply.
I closed my eyes briefly as well and tried to muster my Power, hoping I could send it to Mary Jane for strength.
All of a sudden, we heard the whinnying of horses, followed by the ominous thud of one boot, then another, hitting the pavement.
Samuel was here.
Three knocks sounded at the door, followed by Damon’s voice, muffled through the wood.
“Mary Jane!” Damon called. “Stefan’s waiting for you outside.”
That had been the agreed-upon code that would cause Mary Jane to open the door. I held my breath as I heard the floorboards creak and the door slowly swing open. Moonlight flooded the landing as Samuel rushed through the door, his eyes gleaming in excitement. Seaver was at his side. At the sight of them Mary Jane gasped, a theatrical effort that impressed me. I leaned forward, my heart surging in my chest. This was going to work.
“Mary Jane. Finally, we meet again.” Samuel leered as he pulled a glittering silver knife from inside his jacket. I clutched the stake in my hand. I wouldn’t jump unless Damon faltered.
As if on cue, Damon pulled a stake from inside his vest.
“So stupid, Samuel,” Damon whispered, a smile crossing his face. But Samuel was faster than Damon had anticipated, and before Damon could stake Samuel, they were caught in a struggle. My breath caught in my throat. I knew what I was supposed to do now: kill Seaver. But with Damon in trouble, my rationale quickly fell by the wayside. I couldn’t let Damon die at Samuel’s hand.
“You thought you could get the best of me?” Samuel asked, elbowing Damon away. Damon lost his footing and fell to his knees, and I used the opportunity to lurch toward Samuel, grabbing his neck in a choke hold. The knife clattered to the floor, and I hastily pulled out the stake that I had stashed in my boot.
My arm around his throat, Samuel gasped. I pressed tighter, allowing the point of the stake to graze Samuel’s chest.
Just then, Seaver rushed through the door and tackled Mary Jane. She tumbled to the ground, screaming, as he held her nose with one hand and pulled a vial from his cloak with the other. Mary Jane gasped for breath, and at that moment, Seaver forced the liquid down her throat, chanting loudly the whole time.
“Help!” Mary Jane shrieked.
“Stefan!” I barely heard Lavinia’s throaty voice as she clattered through the doorway. It was clear the witches thought the plan was already going awry. But I couldn’t focus. Instead, I pressed against the base of the stake. But I didn’t have a good angle, and it kept sliding sideways instead of down. I was surprised at how little Samuel was fighting. Did he recognize the futility of the fight? Was he surrendering? Focus. I repositioned the stake, ready to drive it into Samuel’s chest.
“Asporto!” Seaver’s deep voice yelled, and instantly, I was pushed against the wall as if by an unseen hand. My temple cracked against the wooden wall and blood spurted from my forehead, obstructing my vision. When I went to wipe it away, I found myself unable to lift my arm.
“Help!” I called in a ragged voice, hoping the other witches waiting in the alley would hear. A few feet away, I saw Samuel had gotten hold of Damon. I closed my eyes, trying to draw my Power up from my center and push it toward him as Damon wrestled loose from Samuel’s grasp. He lunged, but Samuel dodged, and in the process grabbed Mary Jane from where she stood behind Lavinia. Still, I was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything to save Mary Jane.
“Concisio!” a female voice yelled. Then I heard a sound like a gunshot, followed by a brilliant white light. It lit up the small room like a firework before once again plunging it into darkness. I turned around. It was Jemima.
“You’re free. Kill the witch!” she shrieked. I lunged forward, suddenly unshackled. I plunged the stake I held into Seaver’s back, twisting it until his body fell to the ground. The stake may not have been meant to kill a witch, but it certainly did the trick. At impact, I saw another flash of lightning.
Then I heard Jemima’s scream, over and over again. Damon was standing dead still, his eyes locked on Samuel.
“That’s right, Damon. Stay where you are like a good boy,” Samuel said smoothly. Blood was dripping from his lips, and his entire body seemed to glow. He tapped his long, tapered fingers together as he surveyed the room. My eyes tracked his gaze and I saw Mary Jane lying crumpled on the ground. My knees buckled under me. There was a crater in the center of her chest. Her amber eyes were open, her face an unmoving mask of horror. Rivulets of golden liquid were streaming from the hole where her heart should have been. Samuel had done the unimaginable. He’d eaten Mary Jane’s heart.
“No!” Lady Alice shrieked, throwing herself on top of Mary Jane’s body. I stood, frozen in place, as Damon grabbed the stake from Lavinia’s hand and lunged toward Samuel.
“Run!” I pulled Lady Alice from Mary Jane’s body. Her robe was smeared with gold-tinged blood as though her heart, too, had been torn out.
“You can’t run. Stay still. You too, Stefan,” Samuel said smoothly. Damon stopped midstep, confusion on his face. Samuel had compelled us both. I willed my feet to move, but nothing happened. I was stuck. I felt my stomach and heart clench. The orphans rushed in, too late to the scene, and looked on in horror, although I couldn’t tell if they were paralyzed by fright or magic.
Samuel laughed. His lips pulled back from his teeth, revealing fangs that glowed gold. “You see, I got what I came for. And you did, too, even if you’re too stupid to realize it. I won’t kill you. In trying to betray me, you still fulfilled your end of the bargain. Of course, your good-for-nothing brother killed Seaver, but that’s neither here nor there. He was no longer useful to me, so it’s just as well. You’re free to leave. And I’m feeling magnanimous, so I’ll let your brother loose, too. I feel you may have new enemies to keep you busy now,” he said with a demonic laugh.
In the moments since he’d eaten the heart, Samuel had changed. He was taller and stronger, and seemed to be glowing from within. I tried to avoid staring in his eyes, doing anything to resist potential compulsion. Damon blinked, for once at a loss for words.
Samuel kicked Mary Jane’s prostrate body and snorted derisively. “What’s one less witch? You all should feel jealous that she died and got to escape this slum. If I were a nice man, I’d give you the same opportunity.” At this, Jemima and the other orphans fled the scene, terrified. I didn’t blame them. “But I have much to do, and none of it includes spending a second longer here than I have to,” Samuel concluded. He roughly picked up Seaver’s still-bleeding body and hauled it over his shoulder, walking out and making sure to close the door gently behind him. I heard the whinny of a horse, followed by hoof-beats.
Damon and I locked eyes, and as if by mutual agreement I grabbed the still-keening Lady Alice, and Damon grabbed Lavinia. Together, we made our way to the river. With every footstep, I imagined the agony Mary Jane must have felt in the instant her chest had been ripped open and her heart pulled from her body. I wanted to dive into the inky blackness of the Thames and swim as far as I could, to where the river met the Atlantic and I could swim onward to America.
Finally, when we had put enough distance between us and the house, we stopped. For the moment at least, we were safe. Unlike Mary Jane…
I carefully placed Lady Alice on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words meant nothing. Anger flashed in her eyes.
“You did this,” she spat.
“I tried my best. I killed Seaver. What else could I have done?” I said. My voice was angry, not soothing.
“You could have killed Seaver before he removed the spell on Mary Jane. That was your job. But no, you had to go after the glory and try to kill Samuel. That wasn’t your place, vampire,” Lavinia said, her voice dripping with hate.
“Calm down
. You need to be rational,” Damon said, placing a hand on Lady Alice’s shoulder.
“Stop!” she screeched. “Don’t touch me. None of you touch me. You broke your word. Stefan was supposed to follow our plan. He was supposed to kill Seaver. He did it too late and ruined everything. And in doing so, he broke the spell. No more vinculum. We have nothing to do with each other now, vampire.”
Lavinia nodded, her eyes hollow. “Stefan gave his word Mary Jane would be protected. She wasn’t. How could you have been so foolish? Only thinking of yourself, and of your brother, when an innocent girl had to pay the price,” she said in disgust. “Vampires can’t be trusted.”
“I’m sorry!” I said again, helplessly. “But we can’t just lash out at each other. Don’t you see? We have to work together. None of us are safe. Seaver may be dead, but Samuel’s still out there, and now that he can compel vampires…”
“Then maybe you’ll finally learn how to follow directions. We’re done, vampire,” Lady Alice said, her voice cold as ice. Lavinia nodded, glaring at me in silent judgment.
“We’ve just begun,” I shouted, desperate to get them to realize how vital it was that we work together. “Don’t you see? He can compel anyone now. And that’s why we need you more than ever. We need to come up with another spell. Anything to hold him back. And then Damon and I will…”
“Will do what? Nothing. You’ll do nothing. I want you both to suffer the way Mary Jane did,” Lady Alice yelled.
“Deletum vampiro!” Lavinia intoned, flinging her arms in our direction. As she said the words, the ground beneath us cracked and green weeds began sprouting through the new openings. They quickly grew thicker and taller. Tiny purple flowers sprung from the green stems, and a sickly sweet smell filled the air. They were vervain plants, larger then I’d ever seen, and they were circling Damon and I, creating a cage. Terror flooded my veins as the scent stung my eyes and made me feel weak. I wanted to collapse, to allow the vervain to overpower me. That was what the witches wanted. It would be so easy to succumb, to finally allow the death I’d escaped for so long to overtake me. Maybe I deserved it.
But not as much as Samuel. The thought tugged against my brain and made me force myself to my knees. Then, I fell back. I was too weak.
“Let’s go!” I felt a tug on my arm. Damon.
“I can’t!” I protested. The vervain had rendered me nearly unconscious. I felt as though my skin was separating from my body. The only thing I could focus on was the pain penetrating the very core of my being. It was as if I were being burned alive, and I could hear my breathing, wet and ragged, below the sound of Lavinia’s demonic laughter.
“Get up!” Damon commanded as he dragged me to my feet and pulled me past the vervain plants. The pain intensified to a place beyond agony. I felt my body being hoisted on top of Damon’s shoulders as he broke into a run.
My eyelids fluttered closed. My mind wandered back to Mystic Falls on a moonless night.
I was frantically riding Mezzanotte through the forest, an unconscious and transitioning Damon splayed over the saddle. Jonathan Gilbert and the other townspeople were in pursuit close behind us. Mezzanotte galloped, jumping over felled trees and sidestepping branches. But she was wounded by their bullets, and foam spewed from her mouth. The townspeople’s anger spurred their adrenaline, and they were gaining on us. I drove my heel into Mezzanotte’s flank as another fallen tree blocked our path. She gracefully leapt over the trunk, but then collapsed.
“No!” I protested. I didn’t want Mezzanotte to die. I shifted and fell to the ground with a thud, alongside my dead horse…
I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the inky black London sky. I looked down and saw raised vervain welts on my hands and arms.
“Finally. You’re up,” Damon said disgustedly, but I could see the relief in his face.
I blinked. We were on the lawn of a well-kept house in a quiet square. The house was red brick and three stories tall, set back from the road and ringed by a black iron fence. Several large oak trees filled the small front yard, giving the house even more privacy.
“Where are we?” The large trees brought to mind the graceful townhouses on the outskirts of New Orleans, while the three-story townhouse reminded me of some of the ones in New York. How long had we been running? I wondered if maybe we weren’t in London at all, and that somehow, everything had been a horrible dream.
“Bedford Square,” Damon said dismissively. “It’s rather small. The Earl of Erne lived there, until the latest scandal stripped him of his title and home. He won’t be back for a while.”
I nodded. I knew Damon wanted me to be impressed by his acquisition, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Samuel and Mary Jane.
“It’s over,” I said slowly, the events coming back to me in hideous clarity. Mary Jane’s heart. Samuel’s triumph. Lavinia’s spell and Lady Alice’s sorrow. “Either the witches will kill us, or Samuel will.”
“No. Samuel won a battle. He didn’t win the war. And this is war, brother.”
“So what are we going to do?” I asked.
“Whatever it takes,” Damon said. Angry red burn marks from the vervain crisscrossed his hands and face. I looked at my own skin. Compared to my mental anguish, these wounds were the equivalent of mosquito bites.
“Whatever it takes,” I repeated. I pushed my bruised, battered body to my feet and followed Damon to the door of the house. But I knew no change in location would make any damn bit of difference.
11
Damon opened the door and I staggered into the house in Bedford Square. It was warm, dark, and quiet. I found a small guest room; the bed was made up with a thick wool blanket and I fell into it gladly.
I woke to the sun streaming through the window. Despite the cheerful surroundings, my stomach plummeted as I remembered the terrible night. But I gathered my courage. Somehow, we would find a way to defeat Samuel and avenge Mary Jane’s death. We had to.
I quickly went to the closet and pulled out a starched shirt and pair of trousers. For a stranger’s clothing, they fit fairly well. I made my way down a curving oak staircase to the downstairs parlor. The house may have been small for Damon’s taste, but it was elegantly decorated with antique cherrywood furniture and intricately woven oriental carpets. The walls were covered with ornate patterned wallpaper and gilt mirrors, and delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. I’d frequently found myself in abandoned houses before—no matter where in the world we were, Lexi had a knack for discovering dilapidated houses and making them home—but this was in pristine condition. Damon had done well.
Downstairs, Cora was relaxing in a wingback chair. She was wearing a green velvet dress far too large for her tiny frame. Her copper hair was lustrous and she looked alert, but the dark shadows under her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Damon must have told her about what had happened with Samuel. A newspaper was open in her lap, but her eyes were darting frantically across the page, and I could tell she wasn’t reading so much as desperately scanning for anything about what had happened in the East End the night before.
“Look at this,” Cora said flatly, not bothering to say hello. She pointed to an article.
“Did you go outside by yourself to get that?” I asked hoarsely.
Cora didn’t answer, but pointed her finger at the article.
JACK THE RIPPER KILLS AGAIN!
I continued reading. Mary Jane’s discarded body had been found by a rent collector in the Miller’s Court flat. Of course, neither Samuel nor the witches were mentioned. I continued to read.
Dr. Thomas Bond and Dr. George Philips examined the body, and discovered that unlike the other Ripper victims, this one was missing a heart. An inquest is being held in Shoreditch. Anyone who was in the vicinity of Miller’s Court the night of November 8th is urged to go to the police immediately with any information.
“This doesn’t say anything we don’t already know,” I said, pushing the paper away.
“Keep reading,”
Cora said, pointing to a paragraph a third of the way down the page. I skimmed the text.
Sources are confident the killings were not the work of previous suspect Damon de Sangue. Scotland Yard is now narrowing its focus on the Duke of Clarence, seen near several crime scenes and currently presumed missing. If anyone sees the Duke, or has any intelligence as to the Ripper’s identity, they are to immediately to speak with either Scotland Yard or the Metropolitan Police.
“At least Damon’s free now. But Samuel has Mary Jane’s heart,” Cora said in a small voice. “How could the life of someone as innocent as Mary Jane lead to harm? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” I thought of the brave way Mary Jane had faced Samuel. I thought of how she so easily befriended Damon and me, despite the fact that vampires and witches were supposed to be mortal enemies.
Maybe her stubbornness had been the weak spot that had killed her. She was one more victim to add to the far-too-long list of people whose deaths I’d been responsible for.
“It was my fault,” I said finally. “I should have thought of what could have gone wrong. I should have killed Seaver first. If I’d just stuck with the plan, Samuel would have been trapped.” I sighed heavily.
“Stop it!” Cora snapped. “Do you know how often you blame yourself? Damon was in trouble, and he needed your help. It’s not your fault, and the more you say it, the more you’ll believe it. The more I’ll believe it. Just…stop. All right?”
“All right,” I echoed. But deep down, I knew I’d done it because I had wanted to kill Samuel. I’d wanted to feel my stake puncturing his chest. But I didn’t explain that to Cora. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment in her eyes.
Luckily, just then Damon walked down the curved staircase, wearing a blue smoking jacket trimmed in white fur. “What’s all the racket?”